Red Rage
by emrys-knight
Summary: It'd be his biggest and best bust of the whole year, so far. He'd save so many lives by ending their human trafficking, drugs, weapons, assassinations, all of it. Los Conquistadores de la Muerte, they called themselves. The Conquerors of Death. Those guys had their hands in practically every business, as long as it was illegal or could front for an illegal operation and it had to s


"I get a new shipment in a week, if you wanna wait 'til then." Mike shifted his stance, awaiting an answer.

"Nah, man. Nah, I gotta get this firepower to my boys by tomorrow, brother." Jules Horriccio, another gangster Mike was trying to get past. He just needed to get to this guy's boss, and he'd finally take the whole gang down. It'd be his biggest and best bust of the whole year, so far. He'd save so many lives by ending their human trafficking, drugs, weapons, assassinations, all of it. Los Conquistadores de la Muerte, they called themselves. The Conquerors of Death. Those guys had their hands in practically every business, as long as it was illegal or could front for an illegal operation and it had to stop. Mike had to stop it.

"You get iron from the candy ass guy down the block, you get peashooters that couldn't wound a squirrel. You wait and get 'em from me, at the end of the week, you get military-grade hardware." Mike's heart pounded in his chest, the desperate need to get this gang behind bars eating away at him. His hands would have shook, had he not done operations a million times before. Plus, he had his team talking in his ear. Charlie silently encouraged him through his earpiece, calming him down.

The turning gear was visible on Jules's face. "Aight. Sounds good, man."

"I'll bring all of it. Same spot. Sunday. Midnight."

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Good job, Mikey," Briggs' voice came through Mike's earpiece.

Mike started to pack the guns back up as he watched the gangster leave through his peripheral vision. He nearly danced at the joy of his opportunity to take down Los Conquistadores de la Muerte. He settled for bouncing on the front balls of his feet as he loaded the last firearm into the crate, pushing it further into the back of the truck. He grunted with the force it took to close the large, heavy door, smiling as he did so.

What he didn't notice, however, as he was in his excited and euphoric state, was the men standing behind the door, ready to strike at their convenience. They lunged forward, grabbing onto Mike, putting a cloth to his face. He struggled, hands reaching backwards to attempt at a grip on the men, though unsuccessful. He held his breath, knowing exactly what was going to be on the cloth, but before he finally got that hold on his attacker's sweatshirt, his second attacker came around and sent his fist into Mike's stomach, causing the agent to lose all of the oxygen in his lungs. His body, desperate for air, greedily sucked in as much as it could, only gaining a heaping lung-full of chloroform.

He slowly lowered to the ground in the attacker's hold like a ragdoll, eyes rolling into the back of his head, at their mercy, ready to be carried around for his attacker's purposes and desires. They checked him over, throwing his phone, wallet and earpiece to the concrete below him. The tallest hooked his arms under Mike's, dragging him to their awaiting truck. They closed the tailgate, leaving him to roll around the bed.

::::::

Mike's brow furrowed as he slowly awoke, his lids parting to see the room around him. 'Cliche', he thought, looking around the large, rusted, abandoned warehouse. The glass looked to be kissed by fire and charcoal, the ground covered in a thicc layer of dust. His memories from two weeks before flowed through his mind, 'Twice in one month, this is ridiculous.'

"He's awake," A dark shadow cascades down the wall as a woman appears, a full red outfit. Her red leather biker jacket, red jeans, black biker boots and pitch black hair nearly made Mike laugh.

"You some kind of supervillain? What's with the extreme matching outfit?" He scoffed at the thought.

"Humor. Hm. You're gonna need it, through this," She tilted her head to the side, coming to lower to eye level, all of her weight on the front balls of her feet, legs bent into a squat. She placed a firm hand on his knee, slowly moving it up to his chest to soon cup his cheek. He jerked his head away from the unsolicited touch, wincing at the headache that he hadn't noticed before, throbbing at his head, his eyes feeling weary.

It was only then the cold of the old blood nipped at his skin. The bruises across his torso made themselves known. His cuts and scrapes on his arms participated in the roll call, also. His injuries were all of a sudden allowing themselves to be counted. Mike groaned, the headache turning into a mild migraine.

"You don't recognize me, Agent Mike?"

He lifted his head to meet her gaze, eyes lidded. 'No. I-I don't. We've met, before?" He really didn't remember. His mind raced, images of different women he'd met rolling through like a fast slideshow, no answers coming to him.

"I guess I look a little different. I had blonde hair, back then. I got a tan and some different clothes," She grabbed his jaw, squeezing as hard as she could. Mike thought about the bruise marks that was going to make. "You good with names, Mike?"

"Sure." He remained defiant, ready to shove away any questions he didn't want to answer for sake of the FBI, and Hell, for _himself_.

"Joy Tirisa." Her smirk was infuriating, her eyes holding a great rage as he paused.

"Joy…" His eyes were strained with surprise. "Oh my- J-Joy… You were-"

"Yup. I left you with no answer. Not even a break-up text." She released his jaw, coming back to his shirt, a tight grip in it, pulling him forward. The wide strap across his chest pulled on his torso, creating yet another bruise. The chair's material groaned at the pressure, giving Mike a spark of hope. His chest protested the pressure. He almost laughed at the thought of being completely purple with bruises all over his body. He left it alone, though, choosing to keep his focus on the issue at hand.

"We had some good times, Mikey."

"Did we? You were obsessive. You were so damn clingy. You were horrible to my roommates."

She laughed, standing and walking over to the large box a relatively short distance from where he was strapped to the wooden chair nailed to the floor. "You know why I left?"

"I have some ideas, yeah."

"Mm. See, I found out about your little 'operation' where you date me to find out about all of my dealings. As you can probably imagine, I'm not exactly a fan of that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The effort was pointless and he knew it.

"Oh, shut up, I have your file right here." She showed him the open folder, his picture at the front. The redacted files peeked out from behind it, so much yet so little information visible. "You're a good agent, Mike. You just don't know when you're screwing with the wrong person."

"I always do, I just don't stop." He pulled on his chest strap as the material dug into his chest, the ropes on his wrists cutting into his skin, burning from the contact, blood threatening to show itself.

"Well, it's gonna cost you, today." She reached into the box, sending Mike's heart rate through the roof.

:::::::

"Mikey? Mike?" Charlie called through the comms. She wanted to wait until he got away from the site before they'd see or talk to him, but he wasn't answering and she was getting antsy. "Just say something, babe, I need you to say something to me. Whistle. Something."

No answer.

Briggs heard his girlfriend's pleas to his friend and made his way over to her little command center in one of the Graceland rooms. "What's going on, Chuckie?"

"He's not answering me."

Briggs leaned down, wrapping both his arms around Charlie's shoulders with a light kiss on the cheek. He lay his chin on her right shoulder, speaking near her ear. "He probably took it out."

"I told him not to take it out until he got here, just in case." Charlie turned her head ever-so-slightly towards Briggs. He stood upright, crossing his arms and looking at the computer screens in front of them. Charlie turned in the seat, facing him, mimicking his crossed arms. "What if something happened? He could be burned."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Chuckie."

"With what we do, you really call it 'jumping to conclusions'?"

Briggs sighed. "Johnny, Jakes!"

"Yeah?!" Johnny, from the kitchen.

"Yeah?!" Jakes, also from the kitchen.

"Come here!"

The two came into the room, food in hand. "What's up?" Johnny plopped into an office chair next to Charlie. Jakes ate his sandwich while taking in the sight of the computer screens.

"Chuckie thinks Mike's been burned."

:::::::

"Who do your roommates work for?" She pressed the gun to his temple, the cold metal sending a chill down his spine, goosebumps arising from his skin. His head tilted to the side, though she followed closely with her firearm.

"Many different people. Johnny switches jobs, a lot, so you never really know, so-"

"Hilarious." She stepped back, aiming the weapon at his thigh, firing a shot. He cried out, struggling in the restraints at the pain the graze caused him. He huffed, finally ripping the skin at his wrists where the rough rope was.

"I think Charlie was a cook at one point and-"

Another graze to the leg, same spot. He screamed, desperate for someone to hear him before the gun is shoved in his mouth. He wanted to bite down on it, get it out of her hand, somehow, but it wasn't going to play out that way, and he knew it. He struggled in his restraints, wincing at every movement as his wounds were jostled around, irritated.

"Briggs works in accounting, I think, but I saw him hanging around behind a bar for a minute, so I'm not sure where-" He paused. No shot? He had closed his eyes and turned his head, thinking it was coming but it didn't. He opened his eyes, turning to face her when she dropped the gun into the box. She dug through it, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing through his ears.

"Where is my favorite tool? Hey, have you seen- Oh, nevermind. Here she is!" She held up a large gray rod, one that was obvious to Mike. A cattle prod. His friends all owe him free beer for life for not giving them up, he swore.

:::::::

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr. and Mrs. Eovaldi." Charlie threw the thank you behind her shoulder as she exited the residence.

"Of course; anything to help." Mrs. Eovaldi closed the door behind the agents with a sweet smile.

Charlie and Briggs made their way to the car. "I'm sure the footage is clean and Mikey just went to get some surprise food for us from the best food truck in Cali."

"I can feel it, Briggs, something's off." Charlie got in the driver's seat, speeding off back to Graceland.

….

"Look! Dammit, Briggs, he got grabbed."

"Johnny! Jakes! Mike got taken!"

The two rushed into the room as Charlie rewound the security camera footage from the Eovaldi house. "I recognize these guys. They don't play, guys. Mike's in real danger."

"Who are they?" Jakes sat next to Charlie, looking through the footage.

"It was a bust we were working on for Los Conquistadores de la Muerte. They must have figured out what we were up to and they got mad." Briggs explained, crossing his arms and shifting his stance, facing the team.

"So what do we do?" Johnny swiveled in the chair.

"They should demand a ransom, soon, or they're just gonna kill him and send parts of his body to us." Briggs explained. Everyone winced at the thought of the latter. "Probably not, though."

"Wait… I've seen those guys before. They worked for someone Mike was dating for a case." Jakes leaned in, rewinding the footage, pausing at the right time to see the two's faces.

"Who?"

"Joy Tirisa." The whole team grimaced, knowing exactly what it meant he was going through. But there was one silver lining. "I know how to find Mike." They all took refuge in the fact that she had no idea they knew.

:::::::

Mike screamed, ribs protesting the blunt force trauma they were being subject to. The burns on his torso kept irritating his nerves. He wanted to break free, to get the psycho in prison, where she belonged. "Don't even get me started on Jakes. I think he runs a surf shop or something? Y'know, we don't really talk about work, too muc- GAH!"

She took another swing at him, breaking yet another rib with her crowbar, leaving even more bruising across his, already purple, torso. The metal cut into his skin, small slivers of blood flowing in tiny rivulets, cascading down his abs. He just wanted the pain to end. He wanted his team to find him.

"I'll give you this, Agent, you're holding out much longer than expected. I have mixed feelings about that, if I'm being honest with you, baby. I'm loving this whole torture thing we've got going, but I really want my information."

"Information about a bunch of random people in California? Why us?"

"I literally have your file, right here! Stop lying to me!"

"Some manilla folder with a stamp on the outside with a picture of me and some papers with black lines across it? What is that supposed to be redacted information? You're delirious, Joy."

"What did you just call me?'

"Something I already regret," he barely managed to get the sentence out before she pulled his hair back, exposing his neck to her large knife. The metal kissed his skin, goosebumps making an encore appearance. He was so cold, only having jeans on. He wanted his shirt, socks and shoes back. He just wanted to go back to Graceland and sleep until he took his last breath. He just hoped his last breath wasn't in that warehouse.

With a loud boom, the large metal door slid open as the agents of Graceland stormed into the room, guns trained on the red psychopath. She squatted behind him, keeping the knife against his throat as she gained an even tighter grip on his hair, pulling it even further back. Mike kept his mouth shut, swallowing against the cold, sharp blade. His carotid was in full view, pulsing quickly with the intense and quick heart rate causing the blood to flow at incredible, and possibly dangerous, speeds.

"Put the knife down, Joy!" Briggs took lead, as usual, jerking his gun towards her hand.

"Mike, you okay?" Johnny kept back, just in case things turned unexpected.

He shook his head, no, breathing heavily. His body complained through aches and pains, making its thoughts and desires known. Medicine, food, water, sleep…

"We're gonna get you out of this, I promise." Charlie slowly inched forward, keeping behind Briggs.

"No. You're not." She quickly swiped across his neck, sending blood flowing down. The team rushed forwards, shooting her hands, and when she fell back, filling her torso with as many bullets as all of their firearms held. Her body jerked with every intrusion, sending her tumbling to the ground in a heap of blood and dead tissue. Charlie grabbed onto Mike's neck as he choked on his own blood, whimpering as best he could. His hands found her jacket, pulling on it in a panic. His eyes were wide with fear, legs kicking weakly.

"Jakes, keep his legs still." She held his shoulders, shushing him, trying to get him calm. "Sh, sh, sh. It's okay, Mike, just keep your heart rate slow. The medics are almost here, baby."

Her comforting words and the knowledge of is friends all around him calmed him, some, though his instincts kept their stance, making him panic, still. He balled his fists, doing everything he could to stay awake. Then that glorious sound of sirens rang through the warehouse, bouncing off the metal walls as they pulled into the large room through open garage door-like doors at the side of the structure. The paramedics rushed out of the back of the vehicle with a stretcher, ready to receive their patient. They did all they could, even moving Charlie out of the way to replace her hand with a large bandage, injecting him with medications nobody on the team could understand the names of or even begin to guess the reasons for.

When the medics got him stable enough, they lifted him onto the gurney to roll him to the ambulance and load him in. Briggs jumped in the back alongside them while Charlie went with Jakes and Johnny to follow closely behind in their respective cars.

:::::::

Recovery was not easy. Physically or emotionally. Mike spent weeks either in bed, on the couch or laying in the bouncy castle Johnny swore he'd send back to the rental place. Mike kept his friend's secret, knowing good and well Johnny actually bought the bouncy castle and was leaving it in the living room. Briggs knew, too, laughing at the fact that a bunch of supposed-to-be-serious agents of the government had a damn bouncy castle in their living room. These grown ass adults who worked for DEA, FBI, ATF, etc. had a bouncy castle for kids' parties in their living room. The idea was hilarious.

Mike spent more time in the inflated mansion than he'd like to admit. It felt so good, though, how the air allowed the plastic to conform to his body, just right. He could sleep on the side where Joy had slit his throat, and it didn't hurt. The drugs played a good part in that, though, he had to admit.

"Ay, man, Charlie wants me to take dow-" Johnny entered the room, water bottle in hand. He watched on as Mike slept, peacefully and comfortably in the castle.

"You taking it-" Charlie stopped in her tracks, taking in the same sight Johnny had. She brought her tone down to a slight whisper. "Leave it as long as he needs." Without another word, she was up the stairs, headed to her and Briggs's room.

"Night, Mikey." Johnny quietly made his way to the lightswitch, turning off the lights, taking the same path Charlie previously had, only turning to his own room. "Tomorrow, we talk about your role in The Movie."


End file.
